


Inflicted Notes

by akatomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Coping, M/M, Smut Eventually, Sort of? - Freeform, Therapy, but liam and zayn haven't arrived yet, its also cute?? so, louis is a fricking dick and harry deserves better but, they're not famous here but they were on x factor still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:50:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akatomlinson/pseuds/akatomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hates that he constantly needs to be looked after or taken care of now. He wishes he wasn’t terrified of cars and pianos and phone calls, but he’s glad Louis has left such a large scar on his life. He likes knowing Louis was important enough to leave a scar and he thinks Louis probably likes it too.</p><p>or the one where Harry's jealous of a piano and Louis has a ring, but he needs to do one last thing before he can propose</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inflicted Notes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago and I've just stumbled across it. It would be great if I could get some feedback before I decide if I should finish it. Thank you :)  
> 
> Based off of this prompt- http://zouis-broke-me.tumblr.com/image/51530827464

“June 3rd,” Harry says, but it comes off as unpleasant sounding and he knows it’s supposed to sound sweeter than that, so he tries again. “June 3rd. The first time I heard the song was on June 3rd,” He tells the nice man in front of him, trying his best because he knows that's what Louis would have wanted.  
__

Harry wakes that morning to a pattern of musical notes he’s never heard before. He crinkles his nose and reaches up to tangle his long fingers in his tousled hair, wincing as they come across a knot that he has to tug out. He stumbles out of bed, his pigeon-toed feet doing an excellent job at being pigeon-toed because he trips as soon as he has one awkward foot on the ground. He catches himself quickly on the silky curtains in front of him, letting go swiftly because he knows the thin fabric was not made to help lanky, six-foot tall teenagers balance.

The unfamiliar notes are still being played and Harry listens eagerly, noticing the first few are sounding out repeatedly as if Louis is trying to get a feel for them. He sighs a bit, pressing his knuckles into his eyes, attempting to rub the sleep from them before he sees the other.

Harry treads downstairs, his 19-year-old body not fully woken up yet, and his breath catches in his throat as he sees his gorgeous boyfriend of three years sat at their shiny piano that Harry had gotten him for his birthday just last year. The pads of his fingers are slipping up and down the bright keys, not pressing down yet, just resting as Louis focuses intently on the black and white sheet of music in front of him.

Harry takes a small step forward, trying to look over Louis’ shoulder at the song title, but the floor creaks obscenely and Louis’ head snaps up causing him to nearly topple over on the small piano bench. 

Harry lets out a soft, yet apologetic, laugh as his boyfriend scrambles to cover up the sheets of paper in front of him. “What song was that?” Harry whispers, keeping his distance until Louis can effectively hide the song.

Louis giggles nervously as he shoves the papers into the piano bench along with the rest of his sheet music. “Just something new I’m trying to learn,” He offers, slowly walking over to Harry and hugging him tightly around his waist. He prefers to hug Harry around the neck, but Harry is much too tall and Louis is much too tired to try and reach.

“Sounds good,” Harry mutters, resting his chin atop Louis’ silky hair.

Louis snorts and shakes his head. “Sounds terrible,” He corrects, inhaling Harry’s sleepy-boy scent. “I’ve only just started trying to play it though. It’ll get better,” He promises and Harry beams at the dedication in his voice.

“I know it will,” Harry replies, pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple before stalking off to the kitchen to make them breakfast while Louis continues to play the first few notes of the song that would eventually change Harry’s life.  
__

“And you didn't find it weird that he was so protective over it? Trying to hide it from you?” The man asks and Harry smiles, shaking his head slowly.

“He did that quite often actually. He’d learn songs for me and then every once in a while I'd come home to a surprise performance.”

“And did you like that he did that? Surprise you?”

Harry chews on the inside of his lip for a moment before sighing. “I used to love surprises, so yes, I suppose it was a nice little treat when my boyfriend spent time putting something like that together just to get a smile on my face.”

“Used to?” The man repeats, peering over the top of his glasses to properly look at Harry.

“Yes, used to,” Harry replies, clearing his throat. “Not anymore. I didn’t like the surprise with that one. I would have liked it more if he had told me.”

“But if things had been different, you would have still liked the surprise?”

“Can we please not talk about how things could have been instead of what they actually are? It’s over. It happened. I don’t want to try and imagine how things could have been different because they couldn’t have been. It is what it is,” He swallows, the bold words inked across Louis' chest still fresh in his mind.  
__

After a few days, Harry starts to hear more of the song and he realizes how difficult it must be. Sometimes he’ll wonder how Louis manages to play the notes without slipping up and then he remembers just how much he’s been practicing.

Harry slides onto the piano bench beside Louis and watches, eyes raking over the keys as Louis’ small fingers glide easily across the instrument; he manages the first few notes before he trips up, stumbling on a harder section. Louis groans and Harry smiles lightly at the adorable pout on his face, nudging their shoulders together lightly.

“You shouldn’t stress so much,” Harry whispers, nose rubbing along the shell of Louis’ ear. “It’s just a song.”  
__

“He was so aggravated that day,” Harry notes softly, the memories coming back to him in quick jabs. “I remember how he shoved me off of him. I remember he muttered that I didn’t get it before storming off to the bedroom and slamming our door.”

He sighs to himself for a moment, not bothering to look up to see the man’s reaction. “I felt like I was going to burst into tears, but I told myself he was just frustrated. That he wasn’t really upset with me.”

The man nods, eyes still trained on Harry. “And he apologized?”

Harry swallows. “No. He went straight to bed. At least I think he did. I slept on the couch that night, but I was almost certain I heard parts of the song either early in the morning or really late at night. I don’t know. I might have been dreaming.”

“Or he got up in the middle of the night to practice the song,” The man finishes slowly, as if the two of them are putting together the missing pieces of a puzzle that Harry never agreed to invest his time in.

“Instead of coming to apologize to me,” He whispers in agreement, emerald eyes still glued to his worn-out converse.  
__

“Breakfast?” Louis asks from his spot at the piano bench as Harry walks back from the kitchen.

“I had cereal,” Harry mumbles.

“You didn't make us anything?”

“No,” Harry says simply before retreating to the bedroom so he can try and kill the lump in his back with soft sheets and a comfy mattress.

He hears that stupid song again that night and he wants to grab the sheet music and throw it away so Louis will be forced to pay attention to him instead of the ridiculous piano.  
__

“So you felt like he was spending more time trying to perfect the music than he was paying attention to you?”

Harry shrugs, but nods his agreement. 

“Harry,” The man says firmly, scolding almost. “We’ve discussed this. When you’re in a session, you've got to use your words. I'm here to help you, yes? I'm on your side.”

“I know,” Harry huffs, slight exasperation in his raspy voice. “It's just there’s not much more to say about that. Yes, okay? I felt a little neglected; like the piano was more important than me or something.”

“So what did you do about it?”  
__

When Harry wakes the next morning, sprawled out on his stomach, he looks back to see Louis slowly massaging his shoulders. A small smile spreads across Harry’s pink lips because he knows this is Louis’ way of apologizing. Louis voices it anyways.

“So sorry. I was such a jackass,” He whispers against Harry’s pale, unblemished skin.

“You were,” Harry agrees with a small hum as his boyfriend crawls up to sit on his bum. Harry rests his chin on his arms as Louis continues the massage.

“How about we go out tonight? Will you forgive me?”

“Hm,” Harry ponders, tilting his head in thought. “That depends. Will you wear a Snapback?” Harry asks, because he’s literally been trying to get Louis in a Snapback for their entire time spent as a couple.

Louis groans. “No. Harry, I don’t know why we still have this discussion. I will not wear a Snapback.”

Harry whines, “Aw, but you'd look so fit in it. It’s practically the same as wearing a beanie. It’s just…less constrictive,” Harry offers, receiving a smack in the arm from Louis.

“I don’t even have a Snapback,” Louis huffs.

“Well, luckily your extremely fit boyfriend does.”  
__

“Right, let's skip to the restaurant you went to. Bit more significance, yes? ”

Harry scowls, annoyed at the interference. “I'm getting there. Would you let me tell it the way I want? It was one of my favorite days.”

The man sighs but nods anyways. “Yes, of course. Sorry. Continue.”  
__

That night, Louis lets Harry dress him. Harry picks out possibly the trashiest tank top Louis has ever seen, along with some Snapback with the name of a basketball team Louis hasn’t heard of and converse. He feels like a proper bum, but Harry insists he looks hot. That’s the only thing keeping him from burning the outfit off of him.

“I feel like a Malibu Barbie,” Louis states without an ounce of amusement evident on his face.

Harry kisses his cheek. “Malibu Ken,” He corrects with a teasing grin.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Louis’ breath catches in his throat and Harry’s eyes light up. This is something they do very often.

“I…I do love you, Harry. I just…I love you so much,” Louis gushes, voice wavering as if he's on the verge of tears.

“You do? Oh Louis! I think I must love you too.”

Harry squeals before nearly knocking Louis over in a bone-crushing hug. They share the moment for a bit longer before Louis snorts and pushes Harry off of him.

“Never gets old.”

Harry grins, remembering when he'd originally told Louis he loved him. He'd blurted it out and then proceeded to fall down the stairs and break his leg. Louis had rushed him to the hospital before quickly saying the words back. They vowed from that night forward to redo their first time saying it to each other. It was now an ongoing joke.

“You always did have a knack for being clumsy at inconvenient times.”

“It’ll make a great story for the kids someday,” Harry winks cheekily before skipping off to get ready, smacking Louis’ bum lightly on his way out.  
__

“But you fought again that night, didn’t you?”

Harry sighs, large hands fiddling in his lap. “We did.”

“So, why was that one of your favorite days?”

“I just…I remember being really happy that day. Not after the fight of course, but the rest of it was perfect.”

“The fight, though. It was bad, correct?”

“Yeah," He pauses, chewing at his lower lip. "Louis didn't come home with me that night."  
__

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? We’re going to do this in the middle of the goddamn restaurant. You’re acting like a child,” Louis hisses.

Harry knows he’s overly sensitive and he knows what Louis is saying isn’t even that bad, but tears are running down his cheeks and he’s sniffling obscenely and people are definitely staring.

Couples start whispering to each other, and maybe it’s because they’ve noticed that they’re sat at dinner next to 2/5 of that boy band who placed third on the X-Factor a while back. Maybe they’re thinking of asking for a picture or an autograph. Probably not.

Harry rubs at his eyes, letting out a small whimper as Louis keeps whispering insults, telling him to stop. Eventually, Harry gets up and leaves. At this point, everyone is staring at Louis. Everyone is thinking he’s horrible and he feels horrible, but he’s too angry to notice how horrible he’s being.

He throws a wad of cash on the table, not even caring that they haven’t eaten yet, and dismisses himself. He leaves the restaurant in a huff and looks around before finally spotting Harry by the valet getting their car.

“Harry,” Louis calls out in a scolding manner. 

Harry doesn’t look back at his boyfriend as he hops in the driver’s seat and starts home.  
__

“I wish I had looked back,” Harry whispers, more to himself than anything.

“So…” The man drawls, eyes scanning a piece of notebook paper as he ignores him and Harry guesses that he’s been taking notes, though he hadn’t noticed at first. “You got home…and then what?”

Harry shakes his head, realizing he’s been staring at the notepad for far too long. He pushes his curls out of his face and clears his throat. “Right," He swallows, picking up where he left off. "I got home and then I waited for about an hour.”

“And why did you do that?”

Harry crinkles his eyebrows. “I was…going to apologize I think.”

The man raises his eyebrows. “From what you’ve told me though…it seems like Louis is the one who should have been apologizing to you.”

Harry flinches at the name and shakes his head. He hates when the man says his name. It sounds so lifeless and dull. That’s the way people say it now. They used to say it differently. With so much more happiness. 

“I...it doesn’t matter though. I hated fighting with him. I almost always apologized. I didn’t care if it was his fault. I’d apologize just so he could say he forgives me and then it would be over. At least that way, we were always okay.”  
__

Louis comes home the next day. He reeks of alcohol and smoke and other people, but Harry doesn’t care because he’s there.

“Louis,” Harry breathes out, leaning against the doorway, as he looks the shorter boy up and down.

Louis smiles stupidly and Harry knows that’s his drunk smile, but it’s still a smile so Harry stupidly smiles back. He helps Louis over to their couch and quickly pushes him to lie down.

He’s not sure what he expects Louis to say first. Maybe spit out an apology. Maybe say he’s still mad. Maybe give an excuse as to why he didn’t come home. He definitely doesn’t expect to hear, “The bar let me play part of the song on the piano on the stage.”

Harry stops, hand in the process of tucking Louis into the couch. He stares at Louis as he dumbly giggles and then Harry walks out of the room because Louis’ first and apparently only priority was that stupid fucking song that Harry absolutely hated.  
__

The man raises his eyebrows, tilting his head in consideration. He rests his pen down for a moment. “You’ve never told me that before.”

Harry makes some sort of noise and shrugs. “I’ve never been ready to tell you that.”

The man gives Harry a few minutes to sort out his brain, jotting stuff down on his notepad.

Harry sniffles, but he’s not about to cry. He’s just sad and a bit cold. He’s sick too. He’s been sick since the last time Louis played the song for him. 

The man doesn’t tell him to continue and Harry’s grateful because he knows he would’ve snapped at the poor guy. Even if it's sort of his job to deal with stuff like this.  
__

When Harry emerges from their room, Louis is practically dead asleep on the couch. He’s snoring and he has food all over his clothes. He still smells horrid, but he somehow manages to look cute. And Harry hates himself for thinking it in that moment because he's furious at Louis. And it's incredibly hard to stay furious at someone when you can't stop thinking about how cute they are. Maybe that's why Louis gets away with so much. He's too cute to be mad at.

Harry walks over and scoffs, disgusted by how Louis smells even more the closer he gets. “Louis,” He murmurs, shaking him more roughly than he usually would. Then again, they wouldn't usually be in this situation. “Get up. You’re disgusting.”

Louis doesn’t move.

Harry rolls his eyes and picks the small boy up in his large arms, slowly carrying him to the bathroom. He sets him on the toilet and attempts to undress him, but Louis keeps slumping over and trying to cuddle with everything so Harry tries to wake him again. This time he’s successful.

“Haz,” Louis babbles, grinning with his eyes still closed. He looks like a silly child and Harry cracks a tiny smirk.

“Right here, sweetheart,” Harry answers, untangling Louis’ arms to get his shirt over his head. “Could you help me out a bit? We’ve got to get your clothes off.”

Louis shakes his head and tries to hug Harry again, which gives Harry the opportunity to get the flimsy tank top off.

When Harry finally gets him undressed, he starts the bath. He makes sure it’s the temperature that Louis likes it on before slowly lifting his boyfriend and placing him in the tub.

“Haz,” Louis whines with an adorable, little pout on his face. “You’ve got to get in with me.”

Harry sighs because he knows he won’t be able to resist a drunk, pouty Louis. He quickly strips and takes his rightful place behind Louis. He reaches for the soap and begins to wash him. Louis leans back into his younger boyfriend, closing his eyes and smiling contentedly.

That’s when Louis starts humming the song. 

Harry freezes. He doesn’t even think Louis knows he’s doing it. He doesn’t even think Louis knows Harry has an issue with it. Harry opens his mouth to say something, but Louis sounds so happy and the song really is beautiful. Harry listens until Louis stops and looks back at him.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry continues watching him, blinking a few times in consideration before he puffs out a sigh. “I know you are.”  
__

“Alright, Harry,” The man announces after a few beats of silence. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll see you tomorrow, yes? Your friend will be walking you here again?”

Harry lets out a small sigh, nodding tiredly. “Yeah, one of them will be, definitely. Depends who can get a bit of time off work.”

He hates that he constantly needs to be looked after or taken care of now. He wishes he wasn’t terrified of cars and pianos and phone calls, but he’s glad Louis has left such a large scar on his life. He likes knowing Louis was important enough to leave a scar and he thinks Louis probably likes it too.

The man starts to pack up his things, pausing momentarily to look Harry over. “Things will get better, you know? I know it sucks right now, but they’ll get better.”

Harry nods numbly and heads home, taking his time on the walk because he constantly dreads going back to the place filled with endless reminders of what he’s missing.


End file.
